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REAL AND IDEAL 



A COLLECTION OF 



METRICAL COMPOSITIONS, 



J. W. 3I()NTCLAIR, ^.b^. 



IPIElESIiiMf AB^n®M (B©IP¥. 






Entered accordivg to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by J. Wm. Weidemeycr, 
the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of ^cw York. 



IS HART & ro., PRINTERS AND STATIONERS 
C3 CORTLANDT STREET, NEW-YORK. 



|fiil ail §l«al 



J. W. MONTCLAIR. 



TO 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW 



HUMBLE TRIBUTE IN ADMIRATION OF HIS TASTE, 
LEARNING, AND GENIUS. 



L 



"Unheralded — a pilg-rim and a stranger; 
If ye would hnovj me, T:eep ine oompani/.' 



METRICAL COMPOSITIONS. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 



ODE TO POESr ■•■"* 

Telescope AND Firmament 1'^ 



Pedantry. 



Pilgrimage to Kevlaar. 



19 



20 



Vesuvius ^^ 

Bells by Night - '^ 



Erl-King's Daughter. 



30 



Flowers ^^ 

Niagara ^^ 



Fading Away. 



36' 



Spirit's Revelation - 38 



Egypt. 



Haunted Lake. 



41 



43' 



Age of Progress 45 

Dead Authors ^^ 

Misery and Eemorse '^^^ 

Marriage ^^ 

On Wings of Song and Music 53 -^ 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGS 

Night Vision 55 

^Old Comedian 58 

Stars and Stripes 62 

> Lenore (54 

External Piety 67 

Lmmortality 69 

* Venetian Gondoliers 71 

Phases of Life 74 

Explorer 76 

Pleiades 78 

'^ Procrastination 83 

To a Coquette 86 

Buried Alive 88 

^ Grenadiers 90 

Nightshade 93 

li Wayfaring 94 



ODE TO POESY. 



Ere Memnon's shadow 
Touched charmed ground 
When time, an infant, 
Scarce winged his flight - 
Through the long night 
Of countless ages. 
Ever the minstrel's 
Echoes resound. 



Bard, be thou welcome, 
Who canst inspire 
Like seer or prophet. 
And wake the lyre 
Of thousand strings ! 



14 ODE TO POESY. 

Thy strains melodious 
Earth's future millions 
Are yet to sing. 
Thou fill' St the goblet 
With draught refreshing, 
For wearied pilgrims, 
That thirst to quaff 
Ethereal streams. 



In the lone forest 
To thee the warbling 
Of bird is worship, 
And wild-wood rustlings 
Are spoken language. 
Thou picturest beauty 
In desolation. 
The crowded highway, 
Where wealth, usurping, 
Loads man with labor, 
To thee is only 
A tomb of silence. 
Thy words are blessings. 
And quick relief; 
For the heart-stricken, 
Thou soffcenest grief; 



ODE TO POESY. 15 

To youthful pleasures 
Givest virtues tone — 
Yea, music's measures 
Are all thine own ! 
The hearts of heroes 
By thee are nerved ; 
The lips of beauty 
By thee are moved ; 
Woman's devotion 
Oft thou hast proved : 
No better knight 
Her cause has served. 



On the far ocean, 
Upon the mountain 
And on the plain, 
From fields of battle, 
Breathed as in prayer 
Like saintly word, 
Thy voice is heard. 
In holy temples 
Tliy strains are sung ; 
Thy words from breaking 
Hearts are wrung. 



16 ODE TO POESY. 

Thus, self-cnnoLled, 
By thine own genius, 
Fame's torch is fired : 
By sages quoted, 
In learned orations, 
Thy texts are noted ; 
And shine through ages 
On deathless pages ! 



TELESCOPE AND FIRMAMENT. 

Stars of evening, isles of promise, 
Hieroglyphics of tlie skies — 
Vainly tlie Egyptian shepherds 
Read your signs, with weary eyes. 

Happy we, whose quickened senses 
Reach beyond the airy seas, 
Where, in space, our life-boat launches — 
Hopeful as the " Genoese." 

"Colon"* found lost " Atalantis," 
And recovered Earth's domain : 
Throug-li the glass we've found our future - 
View the homes our spirits gain. 

* Cbristopher Colon, the discoverer of America. 



18 TELESCOPE AND FIBMA:MENT. 

Hail to science ! from whose teaching 
Rays of revelation beam : 
Stars to worlds become exalted 
From the beacou-lights they seem. 

Thus, the globe shrinks in dimension, 
We but fill an atom's place; 
Holier climes are floating round us, 
Peopled by a mightier race. 

When the compact has expired 
'Twixt our soul and earthly frame, 
And this spirit from its thraldom 
Rises like a heavenly flame ; 

Planet sires our forms may fashion — 
Call us from the " vasty deep ;" 
Out of laps of saintly mothers 
We to infant life may creep. 



God of wonders ! where thy marvels 
Stun our mind and stay our breath, 
There I read : we shall not perish 
In the idleness of death. 



PEDANTRY. 

From rote and maxim liberate tlie mind, 
That every problem thought-solution find; 
For living action best can illustrate 
The lineaments of every mind-portrait. 

Our schoolboy teachings, meted out by rule, 
Class embryo sage too oft with embryo fool ; 
And ]nany a pampered KSolon leaves his class 
Learned and accomphshed, but matured, alas, 
On musty precept, a confirmed pedant — 
To stifle progress, by his weighty cant ; 
Whilst fruitful thinkers delve within themselves — 
And shun the oracles from library shelves. 
The God-like attribute, inventive power. 
Has dawned on them, in an inspired hour J 
They scatter the dry leaves of barren lore. 
And pierce each problem to its very core. 



THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR, 



TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 



The mother stood at the wmdow, 
Ou the bed her sick son lay ; 
Arise and come hither, dear William, 
The procession is coming this way." 

" I am very feeble, dear mother, 
Too faint to listen or see ; 
When I think of dying Gretchen, 
The world seems all lost to me." 

Come forth with rosary and prayer-book, 
Let us both for Kevlaar depart ; 
'Tis there that the mother of Jesus 
Heals many an aching heart." 



THE PILGMIOIAGE TO KEYLAAR. 

From spires gay flags were flying, 
111 tlie streets solemn cliants were sung ; 
And as tlie procession moved onward, 
All tlie bells of Cologne were rung. 

Soon tlie throng was joined by two j^ilgrims- 
A mother, with son by lier side ; 
And both sang ** Ora pro nobis" 
To Mary, the heavenly bride. 



II. 



The mother of Jesus at Kevlaar 
To-day wears her costliest gown ; 
For they say that she will be busy 
With the many cripples in town. 

The lame and sick crowd around her, 
With the numerous offerings they bring : 
Waxen arms, waxen legs do they offer — 
Waxen hearts — waxen many a thing. 

For to him that offers a wax hand, 
The wound ou his own hand shall heal ; 
And he that offers a wax leg, 
No longer leg pains shall feel. 



22 THE PlLaRIMAGE TO KEVLAAE. 

To Kevlaar went many on crutclies 
Who now can dance on tlie rope ; 
And some now play the viola, 
That were palsied in hand beyond hope. 

The mother she took a wax taper, 
And moulded it into a heart : 
" Son, offer this to the Blessed Virgin, 
That your anguish, for aye, may depart.' 



kSoou did he kneel with his offering 
To the image so holy and blest; 
As teardrops rolled from his eyelids, 
Agony streamed from his breast. 



" Thou saintly mother of Jesus, 
Thou spotless and heavenly queen, 
My poor heart from sin and suffering, 
Thy mercy alone can clean. 

'" My mother and self are dwelling 
In proud Cologne, on the Rhine ; 
'Tis a city of stately churches. 
Whose many altars are thine. 



THE PILGMIIMAGE TO KEVLAAE. 23 

Adjoining our cottage lived Gretchen ; — 
She is dead now, and laid to rest. 
This waxen heart do I bring thee — 
Wilt thou heal the wound in my breast ? 

Mend thou my heart's deep anguish, 
And morning and night, each day, 
Through life will I chant thy glory. 
And many a litany j)ray." 



III. 



When the suffering youth and his mother 
Had returned to their chamber small, 
There at night time the Blessed Virgin 
Entered unknown to all. 

She bent o'er the feeble one gently. 
And laying her hand so light 
On the beating heart of the sleeper. 
She smiled — and vanished from sight. 

Tn a xlream the mother beheld it. 
Like a vision that moved in a cloud ; 
And as she awoke from her slumber 
The dogs were barking aloud. 



24 THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAE. 

Her son lay stretcliecl beside her, 
Quiet, and cold, and dead ; 
And liis sunken clieek was gleaming 
Like a rose, in the morning's red. 

The mother her hands she folded, 
Faintly she sank on her knee ; 
And the only words she could utter 
Were " Ave, Ave Marie." 



VESUVIUS, 



Thy greeting, fairest Italy, 

In numbers I would sing ; 

Thy waves, tliy skies, thy women's eyet 

Their sparkling offerings bring. 



Thy lovely bay's cerulean waves 
Refresh my famished eyes ; 
Earth's towering altar flames on high 
Olympian grandeurs rise. 



L view a living pyramid — 
A cauldron self-renewed — 
A cousin of the lunar peakc 
A monster unsubdued. 



26 YESTJVIUS. 

Wave-bound, on far Sicilia's isle, 
Thy brother, jEtna, sleeps, 
Whom, like a captive Titan king, 
Neptune in durance keeps. 

Linked Avitli a gi-ander fate art thou ; 
Proud Naples kneels to thee. 
Thoughtful of Herculaneuni 
Beneath the molten sea. 



'Twas when thy minions laid waste 
This now sepulchral spot, 
Where spectres of the past arise. 
Of households long forgot. 



From hollow voice came thy commaiuls 
In wrath thy white beard shook; 
Tempests arose and sunlight paled 
'Neath thy defiant look. 



Aloft in air the wild birds screamed, 
The wild beasts moaned with fear ; 
From herded men the frantic cry 
Replaced both prayer and tear. 



VESUVIUS. 27 

The}' perislied all, and cliaos came 
Like deluge passed away ; 
Where villa, grot and temple stood 
A pall of ashes lay. 



Slain were thy guards, fair Pompeii — 
Thy hosts, thy guests, have fled ; 
Strangers now quaff from Csesar's vaults, 
And drink to — Caesar's dead. 



Old mount, though thou hast Sodom's fate 
Transplanted to thy home, 
Thou gains't for art rich legacy 
From old, imperial Rome. 



BELLS BY NIGHT. 

'TiS Sabbatli eve : from tlie old kirk tower 
Merrily cLime the bells by niglit ; 
The organ peals with thrilling power, 
And the windows glow with holy light — 
Merrily chime the bells by night. 

Year by year to the pilgrim throng 
Wamingly speak the bells by night : 
' Life is short, eternity's long ,* 
Children of darkness waken to light" — 
Warmnghj say the bells by night. 

Over the grave of the patriot slain 
Solemnly rolls a dirge by night : 
The good are gathered, like ripened grain — 
Why should we weep M^hen angels delight ?" 
Solemnly echo the bells by night. 



BELLS BY NIGHT. 29 

Lone do I list to a curfew bell 

That woefully throbs within me to-night ! 

Of waning life its pulsations tell ; 

And many a legend does memory recite, 

That moimifidly wrings my heart to-night ! 



ERL KING'S DAUGHTER. 

FROM AN OLD GERMAN LEGEND. 

Longfellow's "Poets and Poetry of Europe," in a translation entitled "SirOlof's Bridal " 
presents a Bwedieti version of tliis ancient ballad. It -would seem that Goethe, when 
composing his "Erl King," derived several hints from the materials of the i>resent 
poom. 

'TWAS niglit iu the forest. Sir Oluf rode by ; 
He had summoned his wedding company. 

Shadows were dancing on the green land ; 
The Erl King's daughter grasped his hand. 

"Welcome, Sir Oluf; turn not to flee: 
Join our revels, and dance with me. 

*' I may not dance, I must not stay, 
For to-morrow will be my bridal day." 

" Listen, Sir Oluf : come join with me, 
And these spurs of gold thy trophies shall be. 



EEL KING'S DAUGHTER. 31 

Wear this robe of gossamer slight, 

That I've woven, and bleached by the pale moon-light." 

" My vow is another's, time calls away ; 
I must to the castle ere dawn of day." 

Relent, noble knight, and enter our ranks ; 
These jewels shall be my token of thanks." 

" Thy gems are welcome, with them will I ride. 
To adorn at the altar my trusting bride." 

He took from the elf maid a glittering flower : 
Sir Oluf was hers from that very hour ! 

His heart was smitten with pangs so sore, 
That he quailed as he never had done before. 

Fainting, she lifted him on his steed : 
The iron-cased warrior of help had need ! 

When his steed regained the castle gate, 
Long had his mother been standing in wait. 

Whence comest thou, by dawn, my child ? 
Thy features are pallid, thy look is wild!" 



32 ERL KING'S DAUGHTER. 

'* Mother, I'm faint, and unnerved by fright ; 
I met the Erl King's daughter this night!" 

" Get thee to couch ; evil haunts thee, son ; 
Thy vows are forfeit, thy hridal's undone ! " 

" Tell the fair lady that I may be found, 
Training the falcon and coursing the hound." 

Soon morning broke ; by the sunlight clear, 
Both bride and wedding guests appear. 

They spread the feast, they poured the wine : 
" Where is Sir Oluf, the bridegroom mine ] 

" Is the gallant knight riding at morn 
In the tangled forest, estray and lorn V 

They search the wildwood for many an hour ; 
They scan the castle, from vault to tower. 

By the shrieking bride the guests stand aghact 
In a lowly chamber they found him at last. 

Sir Oluf — in death on his couch he lay : 
The elf maid had stolen his life away. 



FLOWERS. 

Be welcomed evermore, ye lovely spriteo ! 

My greeting lips in homage touch your robes. 

From out the debris of departed things, 

By some strange magic starting from the ground, 

Ye breathe, and live a silent, sainted life : 

The while ye nod and flutter in the air, 

Your fragrance rises, like a welcomed prayer ; 

Your colors blend, akin to sunset hues ; 

Your forms are shapes that fairies well might choose. 

Would ye could tarry here : in this rude world 

Too soon ye droop ; by human touch profaned, 

Ye shrink, and slowly wither at my side. 

Whence came ye — tell me, whither do ye hide ? 

Do unseen spirits w^eave your gossamer shroud ? 

Do ye dissolve, to rise a silvery cloud ? 

Would that this clay, beyond life's measured liour?^ 

In ashes laid, transform to lovely flowers *, 

That o'er some silent and forsaken tomb 

Again in lining emblems I might bloom. 



NIAGARA. 

Ere beings witli soul and mind arrayed 
Their earthly habitation had made — 
When the Saurian monsters in agony lay. 
Stricken by doom, on their beds of clay — 
Like a meteor, illuming some desolate land, 
Niagara leaped from its Maker's hand ! 

Once spirits of beauty that manhood enslave 
At nightfall were seen on its emerald wave ; 
In seraphic strain they whispered a song 
Whose rapturous concords to Eden belong. 
They hunted the thicket with spear and with bow, 
Or called the Naiades frcm their caverns below. 
To search for the living trophies that sink 
In the green gulf of water that flows o'er the brink 

A fairy isle trembles on the cataract's crest, 
Beloved b}^ the waves, that hold it compressed ; 



NIAGARA. 35 

And, like worshipping Magii, rainbows arise, 

'Neath these acres of paradise dropped from the skies. 

Transition and death now dwell in the smile 

Of the white, foaming rapids that sweep past the isle ; 

Could their waters but cleanse the deep stain of man's sin, 

How many a diver the torrent would win ! 

In vain the Ice-king, whose touch is death. 
Would stem the wild current, with Arctic breath; 
With slow-creeping gait, and palsying shock. 
Though he bind the cataract fast to the rock. 
Long ere the green blade has pierced the ground, 
Sunbeams dispel the enchantment around, 
And the waters rush on to the far distant sea. 
As if wandering their way to eternity. 



FADING AWAY, 



FROM THE GERMAN OF STORM. 



The cottage chamber is close and still ; 
Within is a patient, weak and ill. 

His fevered brow throbbed wildly by night ; 
His heart is sick, his eye shuns light. 

He holds the watch in his withered hand, 

Whilst his life runs out, like the hour-glass' sand. 

In silence he marvels if breath will List 

'Till the minute hand thrice o'er the dial has passed, 

A faithful attendant is watchful and near. 
Awaiting day dawn with sorrow and fear. 



FADING AWAY. 37 

Now it dawnc ! the sliadowt? of miclnio'lit depart — 
Death slowly winds round that faint throbbing heart. 

Up on the window the morning rays creep ; 
Bird and maiden awaken from sleep. 

Freshened nature lives over her youthful hours, 
And May-bells ring- iu the feast of flowers. 

]\[erry young plowmen rove o'er the green, 

Where robins are heard, and bright flowers are seen. 

Forsaken and lone seems that little room 

Where the nurse has watched o'er the sick one's doom. 

From .his staring eye beams no living light ; 
His hands are folded stiff and tight. 

She has drawn the sheet ; without tear or word 
She departs ; no breathing, no whisper are heard. 



THE SPIRIT'S REVELATION 



Forms beloved, whose memory liaiint? me, 
In mementoes near me dwell ; 
Oft they come in evening visions, 
Or in dreams their legends tell. 



Sad and lonely, but unspoken 
Fancy reaches far away — 
When some sudden thrill awakes me, 
And a seraph seems to say : 



Though we may not break the secret 
That the gates of death reveal. 
In the grey night's gloom and stillness 
Drawn toward the earth we feel. 



THE SPIRIT'S REVELATION. 39 

For there is a strange communion 
'Twixt men and our spirit band; 
Oft in omens we approach ye, 
Brethren of our ancient land. 



" From the glittering orb of even, 
Gliding down upon its beams, 
Noiseless as the step of Zephyr, 
Do we visit you in dreams. 



At the couch of all true-hearted 
Stand we guardian, in their sleep ; 
For the loved ones left behind us 
Do we faithful vigils keep. 



" See, yon spirit mother hovers 
O'er her fondly cherished child — 
Weeps in smiles of tender sorrow — 
Drinks its breath, with rapture wild. 



Playing with her flowing tresses, 
Pillowed on her heaving breast. 
Comes the spirit child, to linger. 
By its mother's lips caressed. 



"^0 THE SPIRIT'S REYEL7VTION. 

*' And tlie gliostly liusband beckons 
To his mourning, faithful wife ; 
In yon lunar dwelling bids her 
Join with him in spirit life." 



Never can the tie be severed 
'Twixt the hearts that truly lovej 
And for every friend departed 
One ye gain in heaven above. 



EGYPT. 

Where wind-moved sands roll o'er tlie desert ground, 
No flower blooms, nor song-bird flits around ; 
There, by the moon, the fierce hyena howls 
'Mong ruins, where the 'vengeful Bedouin prowls. 
Guerrilla-like to slay each Prankish man. 
Or overcome th' unguarded caravan. 

Monsters forgot are buried 'neatli the plain, 
And ruined temples lay like giants slain ; 
There the shame-visaged Sphynx* sinks in her bed. 
Whilst the proud pyramid still lifts its head, 
Upbraiding time, conversing with the skies — 
The desert blast and thunderbolt defies ! 
The sorcerer's art and wily power unknown 
That won these trophies from a distant zone j 
Old as geology itself they seem. 
Though faint their history, like an infant's dream ! 



* Tlie profile of this ancient deity was grossly mutilated by the Saraccnt-', during 
the middle ages. Modern investigation has shown that its colossal body lies deeply 
sunken beneath the drifted sands of the uesert. 



42 EGYPT. 

The race that planted Thebes above the ground, 
That waked these altars to prophetic sound, 
Were neither winged nor giant, black nor red. 
These catacombs disclose the honored dead, 
Yfhose mummied forms do yet await the day 
When souls shall come unto their former clay. 
From out these temples came the living word 
Of science, and the knowledge of the Lord, 
Whence Plato copied, well-taught Moses drew 
The inspirations and the truths they knew. 
Oh, recent Joseph, shepherd Pharaoh* 
None of these ancient Thebans did ye know ; 
Greek Cleoj^atras and Ptolemy s, 
To you were veiled Rameses' mysteries ! 
On stony page, by chisel skill defined 
Time's record lives : our mental vision's blind — 
Our cunning's baffled — and the link that bound 
Us to the primeval past may ne'er be found. 



* Historians explain that the term " pharaoh " was a general one, applied to 
successive rulers of lower Egypt by an alien nomadic tribe, who in the time of 
" Joseph " had overrun and conquered a portion of the Egyptian territory. 



THE HAUNTED LAKE. 



ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN. 



The story of the "Naiad " is an old and favorite one in German minstrelsy. Goethe (in the 
"Fisher"), Heine (in the "lioreley"), and recent authors of less note, present greatly 
diflfering versions of the same interesting poetic subject. 



High ou tlie cedar mountain 
Nestles a deep blue lake, 

And lilies float upon it, 
White as a snowy flake. 



A shepherd youth went thither, 
Estray from flock and kine ; 
He saw the beauteous flowers : 
" Sweet things, ye must be mine." 



As he his crook extended 
To reach the lovely prize, 

Behold from 'neath the waters 
A maiden's hand arise. 



44 THE HAUNTED LAKE. 

It seized a flower and drew it 
Beneath tlie watery deep : 
** Come, follow where my secret 
Together we may keep. 

" Away from idle searches, 
These lilies root beneath ; 
Reach me thy hand, I'll lead thee 
To twine my bridal wreath." 



The shepherd did not follow : 
In loneness he repined — 

For never could he banish 

The pale flower from his mind. 



He wandered on the mountain. 
He seemed to fade away ; 

Nor have the woodmen met him 
Since that eventful day. 



THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 



How liappy in this solitude to dwell ! 
Where whispering thoughts their admonitions tell ; 
God's handiworks extort my feeble praise ; 
Each rising sun shall bring me Sabbath days. 

Delay ye nights that frost the forests red, 
Paint not the leafy shrouds of autumn's dead, 
But spare these blooming woodland scenes to me, 
Where thought and legend dwell in every tree. 

Faint grow the stories of the pioneer ; 

The revolution's landmarks disappear ; 

The rustic plow o'erturns th' historic ground, 

And ripening grain waves o'er its gore-drenched bound, 



16 THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 

The yoked kine, the ever ploddmg mill, 
Show nature humbled by mau'8 restless will ; 
The clover mead and flowered garden-path, 
They are the captive valley's epitaph. 



Hushed are the war-whoop and respondent scream ; 
No more the stag, wolf-hunted, seeks the stream; 
The stilted crane no longer flaps his wings 
On reedy marge, where meek the robin sings. 



Where Mohawk hunter chased the w^oodland herd. 
Aloft, like castled knight, the royal bird 
Maintains his sway, and views with glaring eyes 
The shepherd flock — the marksman's skill defies! 

And truant cascades leap from sylvan fount. 
Past winding paths, that hug the stalwart mount, 
Climbing to heights, from whence, in outlines gray, 
Deep shadows consecrate the parting day. 



Ye oaks that stand athwart the mountain breeze, 
Your tops shall wave in distant India's seas, 
And quick as ye receive the woodman's shock. 
The powder-fiend shall cleave the stubborn rock ! 



THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 47 

Anon the granite block shall face the skies, 
Reared far on high, where saintly spires arise ; 
Lakes shall be drained, mountains by inches fall : 
Man's art will smite and overcome them all ! 



The Age of Progress hurries on too soon : 

Youth's rosy haunts man's searches ne'er may find- 

For fleeting time leaves memory far behind. 



DEAD AUTHORS. 

Unnxbibered volumes look from yonder shelves 
With beggar's mien, and crave our charity, 
Stale, and unpetted by the scholar's hand, 
Voiceless, in mock-solemnity they stand. 
Like tombstone records ; and each title-page 
Tells of rash men, drowned in oblivion's sea 
By the avenging muse of poesy. 



MISERY AND REMORSE 



FROM THE GERMAN. 



Joseph, dear Josepli, tliou hast blighted my fame, 
And doomed thy own Annie to woe and to shame. 



Joseph, loved Joseph, wherever I go. 
Despair comes before me — thy sin is my woe. 



And the finger of scorn points to yonder lone field, 
Where I, among wretches, my body must yield. 



Have mercy, ye judges, and hasten my end : 
^ly words of forgiveness to Joseph I send." 



50 MISERY AND REMORSE. 

Soon an ensign came riding, liis colors he waved : 
The verdict is stayed, from disgrace she is saved. 



Oh ensign, brave ensign, too late thy relief: 
Death's angel, more speedy, has solaced her grief. 



MARRIAGE. 

Love's magnet-like — by instinct hearts are mated; 
To live in pairs, we were in pairs created. 

'Tis wedlock wins the heritage of earth ; 
Then squander not thy claim to man's estate. 
Though anchorite and nun lead barren lives, 
Ours is the fate to dwell in living hives ; 
And when at length in death these shores we flee, 
Children renew life's bond eternally. 

All ties of home are transient : younger claims 
Soon ask a sister's, or a brother's care ; 
Death leads away our parents, friends enstrange — 
Their habits, our convictions, — ^^how they change ! 
When time has flung its burden on thy back, 
What bliss to have a loved-one by thy side. 
Who, hand-in-hand, has wandered far with thee, 
Toward the portals of eternity. 



52 MARRIAGE. 

Seek not 'mong vain and niglit-parading things 
For company with whom to link thy fate : 
For them thy purse must golden grains distil, 
That they may moult gay feathers at their will ; 
To perch in gilded cage on rose-wood frames, 
And feed from crystal cups, are all their aims. 
By night may'st thou thy paragon dove display — 
Although she prove an owl concealed by day — 
That wives may envy and men emulate 
Home misery and happiness of state ! 

Go, find some truer type of woman-kind ; 
One moved by kindred soul, thy peer in mind, 
Whose aspirations will not fail to show 
A wife in feeling, a mother in embryo j 
Whose every purpose twining with thine own 
Completes itself when both to one are grown. 



ON WINGS OF SONG AND MUSIC, 

FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 

On wings of song and music, 
Beloved, I'd w.aft thee away. 

To the flowering l)anks of Ganges, 
Forever blooming and gay. 



Its floral realm shall receive thee. 
Illumed by the silent moon ; 

There the lotus flowers are longing 
To greet their companion soon. 



There violets nod and flutter, 
Or gaze on the stars above ; 

And roses, with eloquent fragrance, 
Recount their legends of love. 



54 ON WINGS OF SONQ AND MUSIC. 

Within the spice-groves are lurking 
The innocent, cunning gazelles ; 

And distant is heard the rushing 
Of the holy tide, as it swells. 



Under the palm will we linger. 
Housed from the open skies, 

In raptures of love and contentment- 
Dreaming with open eyes. 



A NIGHT VISION. 



I KNOW uot liow it happened that 

One cvenmg, lone and late, 

I rested from a weary walk, 

Beside a ehnrch-yard gate ; 

The street was hushed, the stars shone out, 

The city's lights grew pale ; 

I heard nought but the watchman's tap. 

And night-bird's lonely wail. 

I thought of life, its hope and strife, 

Of idols 'neath the dust ; 

And many a deep-set hinge was moved, 

Thai long had gone to rust : 

Relentless doom, that youth and strength 

Should waste away and fall ; 

Ah, why is nature's life-crop sown 

That death may harvest all ! 



56 A NIGHT VISION. 

Thus as I mused a vision crept 
From bush and mossy stone : 
Methought a muffled form approached, 
Like one whom I had known. 
The image lived, the image spoke, 
Both piteously and low : 
" I bring thee echoes of the grave, 
From wanderings below. 

" Too early severed were the ties 
That clustered 'round my birth ; 
Friend-less and child-less have I lived, 
Nor e'er knew woman's worth. 
The demon of gain soon conquered me, 
And I became his slave ; 
My purse was haunted with tear and curse, 
For I took, but never gave. 

" Beneath the sod I sought repose ; 
But at the door of death 
No welcome came : this worn-out trunk 
Refilled with living breath, 
And veiled in gloom, a seraph spoke 
In tones of wonderous sound : 
' Return to life, within this tomb, 
No refuge can be found. 



A NIGHT VISION. 57 

" ' The widow and tlie orphan seek, 
Go, heal their siiftering deep, 
And o'er life's path sow fertile seed, 
That blessings thou raay'st reap. 
Through manhood back to infancy 
Thy life once more retrace, 
'Till thou at last, a sinless babe, 
Canst meet thy Maker's face. 

" * Electric flashes then illumed 
These eyes so heaven-blind ; 
These icy limbs were thawed to life, 
Aroused this feeble mind. 
Oh, wearied sense, blunted desire, 
That I from rest am driven. 
To spin once more the thread of life, 
And wend my way from heaven !' " 

The cricket chirped — the vision fled ! 
'Twas dewy morning hour ; 
I felt alike some hapless wretch. 
Released from demon-power. 
Why did this coward flesh with fear 
Wax motionless, and cold 1 
For in a dreaming was to me 
This spectral legend told. 



THE OLD COMEDIAN. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF A. GRUN. 

The footlights blaze, the curtains rise, 
And peering are a thousand eyes 
Where tinselled jugglers strut apace ; 
With paint begrimed each truthless face. 



Yon mountebank of snowy hair, 
I well could draw his liome despair ; 
Poor, worn-out, crippled harlequin, 
His efforts fail respect to win. 



Whilst honored age, though lorn and A^eak, 

A tutorage with youth may seek. 

This old, obedient, hired clown 

Racks his stiff joints to please the town. 



THE OLD COMEDIAN. 59 

Old men, they court repose by night ; 
The aged arm forgets its might ; 
'Tis raised to guide, or to caress — 
'Tis folded prayerful, and to bless. 



Those trembling hands hang by his side ; 
Those valiant lips his limbs deride ; 
And when to points the text may soar. 
With loud guffaw the groundlings roar. 



Though chronic pains may pinch his frame. 
He must be Momus, ever the same ; 
To those who see him night by night. 
His tears would prove a rare delight. 



But lo ! how faint the actor speaks : 
He falters, and an exit seeks. 
Old Thespian, hast forgot thy cue ] 
Thy walk's unsteady, thy text untrue ! " 



In vain the old comedian tries 
To silence insult ; murmurs rise ; 
Away he totters with alarm, 
And falls ^\'ithin the prompter's arm. 



60 THE OLD COINIEDIAX. 

On comedy the curtains rose ; 

On tragedy the players close. 

The vulgar crowd, they whistle and cry 

A dying actor's litany. 



Behind the curtains, within a chair, 
Ruddy of cheek and brown of hair, 
A corpse is resting ; its brow is cold. 
And on it a painted lie is told. 



For the mien that made the idle laugh. 
It looks a solemn epitaph ; 
False and hollow is all we see — 
His life, his art, were mockery ! 



Never will rustle in nature's breeze 
Those faded, painted, canvass trees ; 
And the oily moon that gleams o'erhead 
Never learned to weep for the dead. 



From a motley group, 'neath a tattered sky 
Comes one to speak this eulogy : 
He fought and fell, as heroes yield. 
Upon the drama's battle-field." 



THE OLD COMEDIAN. 61 

Then a dancing girl, as a beggarly muse, 

Upon his brow, with shabby excuse. 

Pressed a laurel wreath that some Coesar had worn — 

A paper invention, dirty and torn. 



His funeral procession numbered two ; 
Brief was the pageant, the costs were few 
And as they laid him away to rest, 
I heard no pity, I heard no jest. v^ 
6 



STARS AND STRIPES 



We're a people — we're a power — 
Nations, heed the sok^mn Avord ! 
Taunt not, lest this revelation 
From the cannon's mouth be heard ! 



Each trained man swings scythe and sabre. 
Each boy learns to fight and farm ; 
Steel and powder are our safeguards — 
Keen our vision, strong our arm. 



Many empires are absorbed 
In this vast and fertile land ; 
Afric's nor Siberia's deserts 
Mockingly our bounds ex pan ]. 



STARS AND STRIPES. 63 

To bleak climes, where, plant forsaken, 
Forge and shuttle work the gains. 
Onward sails the peace armada, 
Bearing harvests from our plains. 

Nevermore shall labor languish, 
Paralyzed by tyrant might ; 
For our "Stars" they are unfurled 
To dispel want's cloudy night. 

Fierce barbarians must not plunder, 
Nor may lorded serfs defy ; 
For our " Stripes " shall flash upon them. 
Like the lightning from the sky, 

And when traitor foes are gathered 
Where the battle's thunder roars. 
Let the blue-gemmed badge mount higher 
Than the bird of freedom soars : 



Spread: from mastheads, crowning mountains 
Streaming o'er the tented field. 
Victory e'er betides our heroes — 
Right and might will never yield ! 



LKNOKi: 



TRANSUATEO FROM THE GERMAN. 



V.-a Araim *ad Erenuuio. Ui ^ oomi-ilers of :» v^luiib'e ecUection of ai»ciant O^rman poems, 
sauced **Drt Ikiubrn EHunl>trtom," assort that Burg^er■s bar.ad ■• Leaorv:.'' is 
•bunded on tiie followi-.i^t r^vm. Butger. wlio is guilty of having passed several tr«asla. 
Uou8 ftvnw Er.flish authors as his own origi-oaJ c-~mp-sitioas, says : ha deT:ve\i th* 
c--'"C*pucn o- his best »,-l:ievTMii r.t from «ui impertect refrain that he c vsuaUy ovirhe'^y.i, 
■whexk sua$ hy a peasant <ir;. V- ss. a coM litrary sohola:-. and c -temp~-r'xy o: Burger. 
rrin:\rks th.« the \-t rs-.^a iiscorp-rat-Ni ia the c-^Uection o; V.n Armm and Breat*'-ol- 
e^U'^V.y TOvNiera with th:«t o* Burcir, 



Ar>«n'E the star? are twinklir.jr — 
Tlie moon is shining bright — 
And the dead thev ride bv niirht. 



" My k^ve. wilt opo thy window 
I cannot k^ng remain. 
And may not come again. 



The cook alrt>ady crows — 
Tells of the dawning day, 
And warns nie far awav. 



LENOEE. Go 



" My journey diHtant lif^f ; 
Afar with t\K-(t, my bride 
A huiidrod loa^CH we'll rid^; 



In Hunj^ary'r^ fair land 
I've found a tranqnil .-pot : 
A little garden plot. 



And there, within the green, 
A little cottage reHtH, 
Befitting bridal gue«tH." 



Oh thou hart lingered long ; 
Beloved, welcome here — 
Lead on, I'll never fear." 



80, wrap my mantle round ; 
Tha moon will be our guide, 
And quick by night we'll ride.' 



When will our journey end i 
For heavy growg my right, 
ArA lonelv i-- the night." 



(35 LEIsORE. 



Yon gate leads to our home 
Our bridal tour is done — 
My purpose now is won. 



Dismount we from our steed ; 
Here lay tliy aching head — 
This tomb's our bridal bed. 



Now art thou truly mine : 
I rode away thy breath — 
Thou art the bride of death ! " 



EXTERNAL PIETY. 

'TiS Sabbatli-piety moves the worldly-wise — 

'Tis cliurcL -religion blinds our credulous eyes ; 

For refugees an anchor in despair — 

A cloak for madness, that fanatics v/ear. 

Though howling wolves would not destroy each other, 

Sect curses sect, brother, alas, dooms brother ! 

Rank orthodoxy is the set-up price 

That wins the golden ke}S of paradise ; 

Whilst law is studied as the week-day code, 

To guide the pious on their worldly road. 

Mayhap some eulogy proclaims aloud 

A genteel exit from a genteel crowd, 

Of one who knelt at prayer with yielding mind, 

Thoughtless in zeal, though studiously blind ; 

Who took the Word entire — a strict believer' — 

Though God had marked him out an arrant thievcr ; 

Who oft in holy walks forsook his race. 

That he might church-ward turn his saintly face. 



'>H EXTERNAL PIETY. 

Chant anthems, and give benedictions ! lie 
Tlirougli legacies lias bridged eternity. 
'Mong chosen men he consecrated lies 
Where willows droop and epitaphs arise ; 
A sickening, solemn mockery of truth. 
Doubted by age, but oh ! believed by youth. 



IMMORTALITY. 



Afar we stretch our bold, unbounded thought 
Yearn for a future that we all expect ; 
Are we a toy, for saintly pastime formed — 
Or are we shadows of an angel sect ? 



Why should our Maker plant a vain desire 
Or hopeless aim in our confiding breast ? 
Why cast us off, like self-deluded clowns. 
To waste or perish in our tomb of rest ? 



Clear-visioned grows the blinded owl by night 
The insect scents its mate, though far away ; 
The lizard's nerves foretell the coming storm : 
We feel the advent of some future day. 



70 OIMORTALITY. 

Earth's driven sands count many as of yore ; 
Each cloud, dispersed, in raindrops shall unite ; 
Thus our stray lives Avill gather once again 
AYithin their native realm of truth and lia-ht. 



We know God in his mystery has ordained 
That human spirits shall descend to earth, 
And that our hurled dust may rise again. 
To shape some infant struggling for its hirth. 

I)Ut ne'er this mind, that earthly things controls 
j\[ay linger here, nor shall " to dust return ; " 
Death — strikes the fetters from our heaven-born souls, 
And gleans — our ashes in the mourner's urn. 



VENETIAN GONDOLIERS 

FROM THE GERMAN OF CHAMISSO. 

In purple glows tlie evening, 
And gently rises tlie gale ; 
Whilst many a gay gondola 
Has trimmed its fluttering sail. 



'Tis joy," quotli a maid to her lover; 
This roving o'er the brine ; 
Spread out our sail to the breezes, 
Let the helmsman's place be mine." 



" Thou steerest too rashly, beloved, 
Afar in the open sea : 
Our skiff is frail and helpless, 
And the waves run wild and free.' 



72 VENETIAN GONDOLIERS. 

" Must I distrust our vessel ? 
Why should I doubt to-day 1 
Who ever in thee confiding. 
In evil hour gave way ] " 



Art frantic ? Turn the rudder — 
Thou bringst us both to woe ; 
Already wind and billow 
Have play with our frail canoe." 



Then let the angry waters 
Have with these planks their play ; 
The rudder is unfastened — 
Despair now leads the way ! 



From virtue hast thou guided — 
To ruin have I led ; 
Quick, make thy peace with heaven, 
Thy final prayer be said ! 



" Why tremble, base deceiver. 
Beneath this glittering steel 1 
My agony is deeper 
Than all that thou canst feel. 



VENETIAN GONDOLIERS. 73 

" Too many a maiden, betrayed, 

In silencG pines to deatli ; 

My crowning deed be * vengeance ' — 
'Love' be my dying breath." 



The youth his hands was wringing, 
Of his own guilt beknown ; 
She struck the steel in his bosom, 
Then sank it into her own. 



A wreck was seen at morning, 
Borne landward by the flood : 
There lay the lifeless lovers. 
United in their blood. 

7 



PHASES OF LIFE. 

Man's life has phases three-fold, and they blend 
To vary the monotony of time. 
First are pursnits, where every move is strife, 
That creature comforts to the household brings, 
From trophies conquered in material things. 
As wit encounters Avit, so man seeks man, 
Outreckoning his fellow where he can, 
And gracefully, by action most unkind, 
O'ercomes the weak and too confiding mind. 
Thus godly men, of carnal histinct, play 
A most ignoble part from day to day. 

At night we homeward rove, to seek repose ; 
Our advent there the lonely day's event, 
Our plodding changed to greeting and embrace ; 
We mount a brother's, son's and father's place. 
Here streamlet, tree and flock are all our own ; 
We rule a prince, upon a household throne ! 



PHASES OF LIFE. 75 

Stolen from sleep, or by the wayside dreamt, 
Our spirit life springs to vitality. 
In lone communion self responds to self; 
What mean our thoughtless aims, we often ask — 
Is life a boon, or shall it be a task ? 
But holier moments come, as from within : 
When life's gay panorama no more haunts 
With vain allurements our capricious taste. 
We find no harvest gleaned from wilted flowers, 
And ask " whence fled life's evanescent hours ? " 
When strife is banished, peace awakes a chord 
Of prayerful, joyous tribute to the Lord, 
That tells, " the grave is but a shaded way 
Leading from visions of an unreal world; 
AVhere death, by silent witchery, transforms 
Life's dismal night to light-enchanted day." 



THE EXPLORER. 



Forever onward ! rest forbodes decay; 

I breathe to live, I live for earthly sway ! 

My spirit longs, my every sei^se devours 

The scenes that glide away with time's swift hour! 



Forever onward ! why should distance hide 
The land, the ocean — both expanding wide 
Toward the polar waste and torrid zone, 
Vv^here flame the skies, or verdure is unknown. 



I tramp the main, and I invade the sea ; 
A ruler's stride o'er earth was given me. 
Thy term brief, hurried li'fe I dedicate 
To search the records of man's huge estate. 



THE EXPLOEER. 77 



When yoiitli no more iu living embers glows, 
When staff, or crutch, at length ordain repose. 
Then may I tell of nobler trophies won 
Than thou hast gathered, vahi Napoleon. 



THE PLEIADES 



'TWAS leap-year uight ; fleet time had stayed liis round ; 

Mankind were housed, and fast in shimber bound. 

As wearily I on my couch reclined, 

Strange fancies lit my lonely wandering mind; 

Each nerve seemed C[uickened by mysterious power, 

That stole o'er me, in this lone, stilly hour. 

Upon the wall, within reflected light, 

Methought I viewed the antics of some sprite : 

Softly I rose, half conscious, half in awe, 

To near the shadowy vision that I saw. 

Then as I gazed from windoAv overhead, 

From each star hung a bright, electric thread, 

rileammg like unto meteoric light. 

Suspending winged, seraphic, floating forms. 

That shone in colors more than rainbow-hued ; 

That sang in concord more than harmony ; 

Graceful as flowers, elfins by pedigree — 



THE PLEIADES. 79 

Higher iu form than woman's loveHness — 
Whose beauty language falters to express. 

Spell-bound and way-led, did I ask myself 
What charm had brought adown each truant elf; 
Or if my mind, waked from a fever trance, 
Had run astray, to some weird phantom-dance. 
Closely I listened, and soft strains I heard. 
More dulcet-toned than song of warbling bird. 
But soon they ceased, and then the weary sound 
Of low-born men and earthly things resound ; 
The visions floated as thin vapors rise — 
The reddening day-break drew them t'ward the skies ; 
When moonlight paled each found a home afar. 
And vanished distant as the polar star. 
Out of their song these syren strains remain — 
I may not sing, but word them o'er again : 



Seven are we, 
Of stellar degree, 
Relics from olden 
Mythology. 
To the constellations 
On high we fled, 
Ere the Son-of-Man 
Arose from the dead. 



80 THE PLEIADES. 

" In cliildliood we roved 
In this valley of death, 
Where our spirits, clay -prisoned, 
Drew heavenly breath ; 
Ere time, the destroyer, 
Bid Olymp pass away. 
And gave life the canker 
Of early decay. 

" Slain are Dragon, 
Centaur and Faun ; 
Wood-nymphs have perished, 
The Titans are gone. 
Since fact and reason 
Rule temporal things, 
Men are exalted 
To beggarly kings. 

" Serpent and songster 
Rest 'neath the same shade ; 
Felon and judge 
Out of brothers are made ; 
One doomed a vagrant, 
One born princely heir — 
Lifted to greatness, 
Or hurled to despair. 



THE PLEIADES. SI 

Seven are we, 
Of stellar degree, 
Relics from olden 
Mythology. 
To the constellations 
On high we fied. 
Ere the Son-of-Man 
Arose from the dead. 

Since the gods, star-hanished 
Were lost to power, 
Spirits of beauty 
Lurk in the flower. 
Or nestle beneath 
The humming-bird's wing, 
And their eyes peer out 
From each gem-decked ring. 

Belted Orion 
Now shimmers above : 
Pursuing the sister 
That fled from his love; 
With the speed of Atlanta, 
Equipped for the chase 
Pie has sent the fleet comst 
To seek her in space. 



82 THE PLEIADES. 

" Safe in tlie clouds 
The rain-storm is pent ; 
Boreal winds 
To their caves are sent ; 
The moon have we burnished 
To noon-day light ; 
For we sister Pleiades 
Have revels to-night. 

" Children of dream-land, 
Gruests of the night, 
Sirius beckons 
The hour * * * 
Gather * * * 
Spirits of air, 
* * * away 
From this planet of care." 



PROCRASTINATION. 



FROM THE GERMAN. 



Mother, dear motlier, hungry am I ; 
Pray give me food, or else I will die." 

" Patience, my child, and thou shalt eat : 
Early to-morrow we'll sow the wheat." 

To-morrow came, and the wheat was sown ; 
But the child still moaned with piteous tone : 

Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
Pray give me food, or else I will die." 

" Patience, my child, thy longing restrain : 
To-morrow morning we'll gather the grain." 



84 PROCRASTmATION. 

And when tlie glieaves all gathered lay, 
Faintly the child was heard to say : 

" Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
Pray give me food, or else I will die." 

" Patience, my child, and dry thy tears — 
To-morrow we'll thresh the wheaten spears." 

And when the threshing had all been done, 
The mournful infant anew begun : 

" Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
Pray give me food, or else I will die." 

" Soon, my child, approaches the hour : 
To-moiTow the miller will grind the flour." 

And after the gram had all been ground, 
The child continued its waili^ig sound : 

" Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
Pray give me food, or else I will die." 



PROCRASTINATION. 85 

" The bread is kneaded, my darling one ; 
To-morrow the baking will be begun." 

The bread was baked, at dawn of day 
But famished and dead the infant lay. 

8 



TO A COQUETTE. 



Vows of love — are only whispered, 
Holiest words — are from us wrung; 
And tlie heart's most deep affection 
Seldom yet has poet sung. 



Maid, 'twere well that others knew thee, 
And the danger in thine eyes — 
That, like the taper's flame alluring, 
Bum the dazzled evening-flies. 



Thou hast humbled the confiding, 
Mocked at many a lover's vows — 
'Till thy bosom's ** milk of kindness " 
Curdled with corruption flows. 



TO THE COQUETTE. ^"^ 

And tlie venom of thy nature, 
Jaundice-like, will spread within, 
Until, desperate, thy ambition 
Leads thee on to greater sin. 



Widowed hearts still linger round thee, 
Made more solemn than by death ; 
Soon thou'lt shudder at thy loneness — 
Curse thy fate, with dying breath. 



Beauteous image — of destruction, 
Blossom of — the Upas tree, 
Silken serpent, I've uncoiled thee 
Never strike thy fangs at me. 



BURIED ALIVE. 



In quest of living ruins have I come — 

To view the past in this Mausoleum, 

Where banished greatness, lost to happier days, 

Like moonlight ruins opens to our gaze. 



Here dwells the sage who oft, a suitor bold, 
Unveiled coy nature — one who could unfold 
The springs of human heart — now grown akin 
To Nebuchadnezzar, whom the curse of God 
Sent to the fields, to pasture on the sod. 
Not wit nor learning light that darkened mind ; 
A seeming Centaur — man and beast combined — 
A savage, clown and seer I view in thee — 
An ogre come to flesh reality — 
Who in this lonely place exhorting calls 
Rats from their holes, and spiders from their walls ! 



BURIED ALIVE. 89 

Tearful appeals — alas, tliou lieeclst them not ! 
Long liave tiiy kindred been by thee forgot. 
What though thy fame's m every household known, 
Thyself to mankind art a stranger grown ; 
What though thy wasted form partake of bread — 
Thy mindless body represents the dead ! 

Give utterance ! That stare which frightful seems. 
Can it be " rambling in the land of dreams 1 " 
Teach us to comprehend the signs that tell 
Whither with airy shadows thou dost dwell. 
Methinks some Eurydice has led astray 
To hold thy spirit spell-bound far away ? 
Hast thou too ardent wooed the Muse of Song — 
Too deeply worshipped Bacchus, and too long? 
Would that our prayers, with telegraphic speed, 
Could reach thy captive spirit in its need ; 
In vain we call " return thou errant one 
To us, from purgatorial wandering won." 



THE GRENADIERS. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 

Most of Heine's Po-^ms have been successfully interpreted in English 
by recont Anierican translations. 

T'WARDS France were wandering two grenadiers, 

From Russian captivity returning ; 
And when to tlie German encampment tliey came, 

With pain their wounds were burning. 



They bowed their heads, when they heard the tale 
That the empire's star had vanished ; 

Scattered and slain were the heroes of old. 
And Napoleon, the conqueror, banished ! 



Then together wept these guardsmen old. 

At the tales so oft repeated ; 
Said one : " Comrade, I sink with shame. 

When I think of our armies defeated." 



THE GEENADIEKS. 

The other replied : " We are undone ! 

Death soon would hide my anguish, 
Had I not wife and child at homo, 

Where now in want they languish." 

I heed not wife, I heed not child, 

Since our country's greatness has vanished 

Weep hungry wife, beg orphan child — 
Our emperor's degraded and banished ! 



*' Comrade, grant me one only boon : 
If in stranger's land I perish. 
Convey my corpse to its native soil — 
France — the home that we cherish. 



This cross of honor, with ribbon red. 
On my coffined form abide it ; 

This musket place in my left hand. 
And gird my sword beside it. 



" Hid in' the grave, I'll listen still, 
Like a picket, lonely camping. 
Till I hear the drum's and musket's din, 
And the cavalry's loud tramping. 



91 



92 THE GRENADIEKS. 

" When the emperor returns, to wm agam 
Lost battle-fields so gory, 
Then quick I'll rise, a warrior armed, 
To fight for 'France and glory!''' 



THE NIGHTSHADE. 

Thou art pestilent, and tliy un-motlierly womb 
Is rank as Upas — with corruption sered. 
Not plague, nor leprosy, contaminate 
The ailing flesh that cleaves to human frame 
To such degree as that thou dost distil 
In shame's laboratory. Ganges' waves. 
Nor Jordan's holier stream can wash away 
Nor hyssop purge thy stain of foulness. 

The sinful touch that stole thy innocence 
Took all that bounteous nature ever gave, 
Enstranged thee from thy fellows, and transformed 
A fragrant flower to a nauseous weed. 

Thou art a fury, fallen from woman's sphere — 
A prowling vampire, and a painted hag ! 
Pitied by beggars, and by thieves despised — 
An outlawed thing, that villains trample on ; 
Nevermore mother, neither wife nor maid — 
Win not our own, thou lone and deadly shade ! 



WAYFARING. 



FROM THE GERMAN OF RUCKERT. 



1 K^'OCKED iu vain at tlie rich man's door : 
A fartliiiig is all lie gi^-es to tlie poor. 

(leutly I tapped at affection's gate ; 
Ten others were wooing, I was too late. 

Fain would I approach honor's castled abode : 
No spurs had 1 won, no palfrey I rode. 

AYhere industr}- toiled, a pittance to gain, 
T met only rags, starvation and pain- 
Through life have I sought the abode of content : 
It beckoned, but vanished when nearer I went. 



X107 



WAYFARING. 95 

One cottage I found — 'twas grassy and low ; 
Thither for refuge at last I may go. 

Its portals are open, to welcome each guest ; 
There many before me in silence sought rest. 







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